


Just A Cape Away

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~Dean gets hurt on a hunt and Y/N helps patch him up…and give him a little reward for his bravery. ~
Relationships: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Just A Cape Away

Dean went down, all breath pushing from his lungs in a loud groan as his back slammed into the cold earth. Wet grass tickled his cheek as he rolled onto his side and coughed; breath coming out in a fog in the cold midnight air.

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean was down but the fight wasn’t over. The wolf advanced, fangs bared, claws sharp and aimed at flesh. Dean tried to stand, flipping fully onto his belly to push himself up, but his wrist buckled under his weight and he skidded back down.

“Fuck!”

He felt the claws rip into his jacket, tips of the claws pushing down through the layers to dimple his skin. Any harder and they would have drawn blood.

In a flash, the ground fell away and Dean saw stars as the wolf flung him up and away, narrowly missing hitting a half-dead apple tree with his skull. Another crash of solid ground and Dean felt a rib break. He roared with pain and clenched his teeth as he curled inwards, left arm wrapping around his middle. His vision was starting to go, black and white dots pelting the edges as he searched the dark for his sparring partner.

The wolf was closer than Dean thought and there was no time to dodge the fur covered hand that swooped down with razorlike nails that tore through Dean’s shirt like a knife through warm bread.

His scream echoed through the dark and Y/N could wait no longer. She cocked her pistol and slammed the Impala door shut, rushing towards Dean’s voice.

He was bloody and sprawled out on the grass; exhales filling the air in heavy, sporadic puffs as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Dean!”

The wolf turned and Y/N took the shot, taking him down with a silver bullet straight through the heart.

Dean gasped as the attack finally let up, rolling to sit up as he clutched his ribs. “Damn it, Y/N!” he yelled through the pain. “I told you to stay in the car!”

She rolled her eyes, stowed her gun, and held out a hand to help him up. “I think you mean, thank you for saving my ass…”

Dean slapped her hand away and rolled onto his knees, sneering as a wave of pain spread through his middle. “You could have gotten hurt,” he hissed.

Y/N stood back and crossed her arms, one hip popping in annoyance. “Hey, asshole,” she growled. “I just saved your life. Say thank you!”

Dean gave in, his head hanging, body shaking, blood dripping. He looked up with red eyes and nodded pitifully. “Thank you, Y/N.” He shifted a bit and lifted his left hand to ask for help. He couldn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to.

The motel room was cold. The bathroom window was open and refused to shut, allowing a draft of late October air to sneak in and curl beneath the closed door into the main room. Y/N shivered as she passed it, bringing the first aid kit over to the bed, shaking her head at Dean who was refusing to settle.

“I’m fine!” he lied, wincing as he tried to sit up straight. He clutched his ribs and held in a cough.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N teased knowingly. “Shake my hand.” She held out her left hand so he would shake with his, but he sneered instead and looked away. “No?” Her smile was proud but her eyes were worried. He was really hurt.

“Shut up.”

“Is it broken?” she asked, reaching for his left hand. She turned it carefully in her hand and Dean hissed. The underside was red and a bruise was forming beneath his thumb, but otherwise it wasn’t too bad.

“Nah, just a sprain.”

Y/N sighed and ran her hand gently down his open palm. “I wish you’d stop hurting yourself.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

“You’re not Superman, you know, and without Cas around-” Her eyes filled with tears but Dean wouldn’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he cut her off, screwing on a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m just glad you’re OK.”

Y/N laughed softly and kissed the middle of his palm; soft lips gliding over calloused skin. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, either.” She sat back to open the first aid kit, rummaging for alcohol swabs.

Dean grit his teeth as he unbuttoned his torn flannel. “Do what?”

Y/N ripped open a little square of soaked gauze. “Lock me out of hunts, try to hold me back. I’m not an idiot, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

Chewing his lip, Dean peeled back his blood soaked t-shirt; the frayed fabric clinging to the wound beneath, pulling painfully. “Fuck!” He took a deep breath and yanked the rest away, eyes growing huge as the sting bore into him. “I know you can,” he answered finally. “I just worry.”

Y/N met his eyes and leaned in, zoning in for a distracting kiss. “You worry so much about keeping me safe you go and get your own ass kicked.”

Dean puckered his lips, his eyelids dropping as she leaned close. “That’s not tru- Fuck!”

She kissed his scream away as she pushed the alcohol swab against his wound.

“You…bitch…” he gasped, sucking in a quick breath once her lips were gone and pushing it back out slowly. “Not cool.”

Y/N laughed. “I was trying to ease the pain.”

“You did not succeed,” he groaned, lips puckering into a pathetic pout. “God, this hurts.”

“Hey, don’t turn into a pussy on me. Where’s my big, strong superhero?” She dabbed gently at the edges of his torn flesh until the gauze was soaked in various shades of crimson.

Dean pushed his head back against the headboard and grit his teeth. “He died. Fifteen years ago. Shit.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, leaning down to blow a soothing breath of hot air across the tingling skin. “You look plenty strong to me.” She kissed him gently, just above the slice as she fit a sterile bandage into place, securing the ends with tiny rips of tape. “And you’re just a cape away from being a superhero.”

Dean relaxed as her lips landed again, this time over his heart, slowly making their way upwards. He ran his good hand up her back, middle finger firmly tracing her spine. “Hey, not all superheroes wear capes, ya know.”

She kissed his aching shoulder. “I know.” Another peck at the bend of his neck. “Mine wears flannel…” She sucked at his pulse, feeling it quicken under her lips. “…listens to ancient rock…” Y/N licked at his ear and drew the tender flesh between her teeth. “…drives a kick-ass car…”

Dean’s eyes fell closed but his hand still roamed, moving upwards to tangle in her hair. He held her close, sighing a little moan as she nibble on his ear, licked at the sensitive space behind, doing her best to distract him.

“Ancient rock?” he laughed, her words finally filtering through his mind.

She smiled against his cheek. “Anything made before 1980 is ancient, Dean.”

He cleared his throat in sarcastic defiance. “Excuse me. I was made before 1980.”

Y/N lifted a brow and grinned. “Exactly.”

Very carefully, Y/N shifted on the bed, climbing to her knees and tossing one over his lap. She hovered over him, conscious of his injuries, and let her fingertips dance across his bare chest. He was bruising all over and she bent to softly kiss each bloody blossom.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice a raspy whisper as her hands traveled his body.

Y/N ran her tongue across his left nipple and felt his stomach tighten beneath her hands. “Just giving my hero a little reward.”

Dean pulled her up to him, his strong hand tugging on her hair until he could reach her lips. “I like rewards.”

“Then you’ll especially enjoy this one.” She licked into his mouth, caressing his plump lips with hers until she felt him weaken just a bit. When he let go and melted against her, she pulled away, sliding back down to continue her attentions.

Every scar, new and old, she acknowledged; each dip in his body, every muscle saw a visit from her lips. She went slowly, taking her time, moving in no particular pattern, massaging and lightly caressing every inch but the one that was aching for attention.

Dean’s cock was hard and pushed against his boxer briefs, the faded green cotton about to tear as it tented. He lay back and let her work, muscles too strained and overused to do much, too tired to contribute more than a heavy moan now and then.

Y/N was perched on top of his right leg, his thick shin between her thighs, bowed knee pushing lightly against her pussy. She sat up and drew his eyes to her, slowly peeling off her shirt and tossing aside her bra, exposing her tits for him. He reached up and took hold, cringing as his left wrist protested the quick move.

“Fuck.”

It was pained and sexual all at once, and Y/N bit her lip as he rubbed his palms against her nipples. 

“Just relax, baby,” she commanded, lifting his hands away. “Let me take care of you.” She dropped down and covered his cock with her tits, slowly rubbing against him. Dean pulled in a heavy breath and set his hands by his head, determined to lay back and enjoy. “That’s better.”

Y/N tugged his briefs away and licked him firmly from base to tip.

Dean’s throat tightened. “No,” he squeaked. “That’s better. Fuck.”

She took him in slowly; her lips a tight circle around his swollen head, bobbing leisurely, inch by inch sinking downwards. By the time her nose was buried in the thick hair around the base, Dean was gone, eyes rolling, chest heaving, fingers tensing against his thighs.

“Please, Y/N/N…”

She smiled around his dick and swallowed before pulling back with a pop. “What do you want, Dean? Tell me.”

His mouth opened, ready to answer, but she sank down quickly, sucking hard as she went, sealing her mouth around him.

“Fuck!”

“Tell me…” She bobbed at the tip, wetness leaking from the sides of her mouth, trickling down the sides of his erection.

“I…shit!”

Y/N swallowed and he growled.

“Tell me.”

“I-please!”

“Tell…me…” She choked on him, gagging as she forced her way down too quickly and Dean jerked his hips upwards.

“Wanna cum in that pretty mouth,” he grit, mind and body sinking to its most base desires. “Wanna paint those fucking lips. Fuck.”

Y/N sat up on her knees and set her hands on the bed beside his hips, giving herself better leverage. She worked faster, her mouth tight and hot around him, humming as she worked. Dean dragged his hand through her hair once more and collected a fistfull, using the ponytail to guide her speed. Up and down, up and down, deeper with each pass. He bucked his hips, meeting each push down with a hard thrust up, making her gag until her eyes filled with breathless tears.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned, “fuck, I’m cumming. Fuck.”

He released his grip to let her pull away, but Y/N wouldn’t move. She waved her tongue against his pulsing vein as he let go, shooting a hot load into her mouth with a guttural cry.

Y/N drank him down and then cleaned him up with kitten licks as he softened before her eyes.

“That was…” He searched for words, but English was hard, his brain a sleepy mush.

“You’re welcome, baby,” she grinned, climbing up the bed to lay against his uninjured side.

“So hot…” he continued, dropping his sprained wrist on his stomach. “Shit.”

Y/N lay her hand atop his and patted gently. “You earned it, Superman.”

Dean sighed and snuggled deeper into his pillow. “About that…I think I’m gonna need an actual superhero name.”

“Hmm… OK…” She scrunched up her nose in thought, Dean’s face doing much the same.

“Meat Man?” he offered.

Y/N shook her head. “No.”

“The Baconator!”

“The Bacon-Eater…”

“Nah… Impala Man!”

Y/N laughed and pushed up to look at him. “How about… Dean Winchester.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I like that.”

She kissed his cheek and settled back in place. “Me too.”


End file.
